Still Carp­ing On

Carpworld - - CONTENTS - -Tim Pais­ley

Tim de­cides to re­late some past events and de­velop one con­nected re­flec­tion to an­other, with Hutchy, per­haps not sur­pris­ingly, be­ing a prom­i­nent theme

Iwrite for the World Carp Clas­sic mag­a­zine each year, usu­ally to be­moan our luck dur­ing the pre­vi­ous year’s event. Then Jacko and I went and won it last year, which scup­pered the whing­ing for this year’s fea­ture. As it hap­pens this year or­gan­iser Ross Honey’s brief was a wide one: re­live last year’s vic­tory, pay trib­ute to Hutchy, and re­flect on the 20 years of the Clas­sic’s life since its in­cep­tion in 1998. How big is the mag­a­zine, for heaven’s sake? All that ma­te­rial re­quires a book, not an ar­ti­cle (or two).

Writ­ers need a peg to hang their hat on, and on re­flec­tion I had one. It was Hutchy who first brought the World Carp Clas­sic to our at­ten­tion, which was a link, and a start­ing point. I think it was the only match he ever fished, but he had just formed the Dream Team, and was ex­cited by the thought of the event tak­ing place on a big fish wa­ter which had been low key for a while. The big at­trac­tion was that night-fish­ing bank space was very lim­ited at Ma­dine (still is) and the Clas­sic gave – and con­tin­ues to give ac­cess to ar­eas that are not nor­mally fish­able.

The year after the first WCC in 1998 we filmed Hutchy’s Dream at Ma­dine videos at Ma­dine, which was an­other link, and threw up a stronger con­nec­tion than I had en­vis­aged. I men­tioned in a fea­ture a while back that many years ago I had caught the scaly mir­ror which was the sec­ond fi­nal-night fish of Jacko’s brace which gave us our

ABOVE Rod had just formed the Dream Team prior to the an­nounce­ment of the first Ma­dine World Carp Clas­sic in 1998

their last re­spects to the great man. The af­ter­math was at one of Hutchy’s favourite wa­ter­ing holes, the Splash, where we en­thu­si­as­ti­cally drank to his mem­ory, and shared Hutchy sto­ries. For those who aren’t aware of it the Splash has early carp con­nec­tions. Mau­rice Ing­ham lived four doors up the leafy lane above the Splash for much of his life, prior to his stroke in the late 80s, and, as an en­thu­si­as­tic gar­dener, tended the gar­dens at the pub for some years. Fu­neral and af­ter­math not­with­stand­ing, it is still hard to be­lieve that the fa­mil­iar, larger-than-life gi­ant of a man that was Rod is no longer with us.

I was go­ing to sub­mit an­other fea­ture based solely on Hutchy’s writ­ing, but with so much go­ing on, and so many trib­utes (rightly) be­ing made, I will limit my look-back at his ma­te­rial to one of my all-time favourite ex­tracts. It’s a favourite be­cause it em­braces so much of Hutchy’s pi­o­neer­ing be­gin­nings and frus­tra­tions at Pine­trees Pool in the 60s, and is sim­ply a mar­vel­lous tale which in­cludes Tin­ker the Won­der­dog, after whom Hutchy’s pub­lish­ing via Won­der­dog Pub­li­ca­tions came about. The ex­tract is taken from the Pine­trees Pre­oc­cu­pa­tion chap­ter in Carp Along the Way, Vol­ume One. Rod’s frus­tra­tions with the elu­sive Pine­trees’ carp were grow­ing and he de­cided that us­ing hemp in his carp fish­ing was pos­si­bly the way for­ward. We take the use of hemp for granted now, but Rod lifted the idea from the barbel fish­ing on the Roy­alty, where hemp was even­tu­ally banned be­cause of the fish’s pre­oc­cu­pa­tion on it. Would it work for carp? Rod was in the process of find­ing out for him­self at the time of this ex­tract. To put what hap­pens in per­spec­tive he hadn’t had a run from the dif­fi­cult wa­ter for nearly two years...

“With dark­ness rapidly fall­ing I be­came aware of a strange sen­sa­tion: I sud­denly felt at home in the dark amongst the night crea­tures. All my senses were acute as though they had been asleep all the years of my life. I could smell the rhodo­den­drons up on the sandy rise. I could taste the win­ter cab­bage in the air that the farmer had been cut­ting till the last hour of day­light. I could hear the very earth be­gin­ning to march as a mil­lion tiny crea­tures went about their night­time ways. Grasses twitched and reeds rus­tled as the voles and rats ran the paths they’d trod a thou­sand times be­fore, and at my side a harm­less hairy crea­ture was be­ing af­fected by the dark­ness and turn­ing into a were­wolf!

There was a sud­den com­mo­tion be­hind me, fol­lowed by a crash in the reeds as my four-legged com­pan­ion leapt through the air in­tent on tast­ing the blood of a rat. The tran­quil at­mos­phere was shat­tered, alarm­ing the carp, I feared, and di­vert­ing them from their nor­mal feed­ing rou­tines. I pulled the bedrag­gled beast of the night from the reeds, giv­ing her a hard whack across the back­side and com­mand­ing her to lie at my side. For all the good it did I might as well have been talk­ing to my­self. Dur­ing the next hour she chased ev­ery ro­dent, duck, man or UFO within a five-mile ra­dius of the lake. She was com­pletely out of con­trol and I feared that she was ru­in­ing all my plans.

Then, for no rea­son I could ex­plain, as sud­denly as she had turned into the vi­cious hunter she turned back into the docile mutt. Maybe she was just tired from her ex­er­tions, or she had de­cided she had proved her an­i­mal pow­ers: ei­ther way she just lay there, quiet and seem­ingly con­tent to be be­side her mas­ter. The crea­tures of the lake seemed to sense her new mood and once more em­barked upon their night-time jour­neys, pos­si­bly with a new sense of ur­gency through feel­ing that her mood could change again. My heart jumped as a carp rolled over the seed-baited area. Maybe I was still in with a chance.

I was tense again, filled with ex­pectancy, will­ing a fish to pick up the bait. Then it hap­pened, just as I knew it would. The in­di­ca­tor on the mus­sel-baited rod jumped twice as though it had been flicked by the back of a fin­ger, then sailed ma­jes­ti­cally to­wards the butt ring. Out of nowhere, like a hairy Po­laris mis­sile, the dog shot through the air, its mind in­tent on pro­tect­ing its mas­ter from this danc­ing sil­ver de­mon, clasp­ing the in­di­ca­tor in her teeth, and bit­ing clean through the line! I heard the line slap the rings as the carp made off, with­out me at­tached to it.

I have to be hon­est and say that I wasn’t very pleased. In fact I was rav­ing mad and, dumb though the dog was, she knew this. If I’d been able to catch her Tin­ker’s days would have been num­bered, but she had the sense to keep clear of me un­til my mood had calmed. There was no point in car­ry­ing on. I wound in the re­main­ing rod to pre­vent any more dis­as­ters, lay back on the deckchair and went to sleep. When I awoke the dog lay at the side of me, look­ing up at me as though noth­ing had hap­pened.” End of ex­tract.

After I’d set all that from Rod’s hand­writ­ten orig­i­nal I was so gut­ted for him (at least 30 years after it ac­tu­ally hap­pened!) that I half-hoped it was a bit of an ex­ag­ger­a­tion. Rod as­sured me that it was not: that was ex­actly how it hap­pened!

The elu­sive Pine­trees carp taught him so much that he was able to carry for­ward on a na­tional scale, and from which we have all ben­e­fited, that it had to be one of the most in­flu­en­tial carp wa­ters of all time. He went on to catch a cou­ple of 20lb-plus fish from the wa­ter, but they were hard-earned, the re­sult of a few years’ life­times of ex­pe­ri­ence, and some hard-learnt lessons.

In early July I was one of the ‘stars’ at a Fish with the Stars event at Richard Stan­groom’s Hook Lake in Hert­ford­shire. Go­ing there was a jour­ney into the un­known, and I set off ridicu­lously early to cover the 140-plus miles, as is my wont. The direc­tions were spe­cific and as­sured us that the gate at the top of the lane would be open. It wasn’t. Stan doesn’t do ‘ridicu­lously early’, es­pe­cially after a very late night fol­low­ing a con­cert in Lon­don. No prob­lem; I rang him. I think I woke him up. To him it was early: to me it was late, but then be­ing an in­som­niac most of my days are like that. He gave me the num­ber code to the pad­lock. I couldn’t get it to work, which came as no sur­prise to me at all be­cause be­sides be­ing an in­som­niac I am a techno­phobe, too. I rang him back to con­fess to my in­ad­e­quacy. He pa­tiently ex­plained that you had to press the pad at the bot­tom of the lock after you had en­tered the code. I told him I was fa­mil­iar with coded pad­locks, and had al­ready done so. He checked his mes­sage. He’d given me the wrong code. He knew straight­away that he had made a big mis­take and that the er­ror of his ways could well find its way into print, al­though I’ve al­ready told the story to so many peo­ple that this con­fir­ma­tion may not come as news to any­one.

I made it to the lake and re-ac­quainted my­self with Chilly, who, in true mil­i­tary style, had been hero­ically rec­ce­ing the place through the night since the pre­vi­ous evening. We caught up with lost time and shared a few wel­come brews prior to the mid-morn­ing ar­rivals. The other stars were, apart from Chilly, Laney and Hugh­esy (I know: how did I get in­cluded with that lot!), and the sup­port­ers were Stu­art Roberts, Rob Healey, Matt Hodg­son and Jon Butcher. The in­valu­able un­selfish helpers were Dan Hyne and Piers Clarke, and Stan him­self proved an adept hand at man­ning the bar­be­cue and run­ning off pe­ri­od­i­cally (make that fre­quently) for fresh sup­plies of red wine.

It was a lively event, the bar­be­cue gath­er­ing

on the Satur­day evening prov­ing an awe­some so­cial oc­ca­sion with great food, the odd glass of some­thing or other – depend­ing on your poi­son – and some very lively ban­ter. I tend to get to­gether with Rob H, Chilly, Laney and Stan once or twice a year, at most, and with the oth­ers once or twice a life­time, so there is catch­ing up and ex­plor­ing to do in the ver­bal ex­changes dur­ing the Satur­day evening. I’m a quiet sort, but tend to get a bit talk­a­tive when I’m in stim­u­lat­ing com­pany, and have had a drink. The com­pany was stim­u­lat­ing, es­pe­cially the two Robs, one of whom was chris­tened Rob the Gob dur­ing the evening, if it hadn’t al­ready hap­pened – and it’s hard to be­lieve it hadn’t al­ready hap­pened! He was chirpy, but he took the in­evitable put-downs in his stride and kept bounc­ing back for more. (If I don’t spec­ify which Rob I’m re­fer­ring to they can both think it was the other one.)

I’ve got a lousy mem­ory but my co-an­gler friend for the week­end, Stu­art, as­sured me that our paths had crossed many years be­fore, al­though I’ve al­ready for­got­ten where. Snow­berry? I was sure I’d met Rob Healey pre­vi­ously, but he as­sured me that was not the case: but then when the sub­ject of mu­sic came up he com­mented that he had played in the So­ci­ety Su­per­group at the Cir­cus Tav­ern in No­vem­ber 2016. That was where I ‘knew’ him from. I’d taken a few shots of him ex­er­cis­ing his lar­ynx as lead singer for the Su­per­group and re­called his face from the shots. Ex­er­cis­ing his lar­ynx ap­pears to have be­come habit-form­ing. (Di­gres­sion: In his lovely book Life Keith Richard goes on about LVS – Lead Vo­cal­ist Syn­drome – in con­nec­tion with Jag­ger’s ef­forts to go solo. After I’d iden­ti­fied where I’d stum­bled across Rob be­fore I felt it ex­plained a lot. He suf­fers from LVS. (I feel com­fort­able with these rev­e­la­tions in print be­cause he took all the char­ac­ter as­sas­si­na­tions in his stride at the fish-in.)

There were some fish caught, which was a re­sult in the cir­cum­stances with the ex­tra rods out, the bank­side dis­tur­bance, and the fre­quent com­ings and go­ings. Stars Chilly and Laney both caught, Chilly as a re­sult of some very imag­i­na­tive angling, and Laney as a re­sult of some very lon­grange fish­ing. In fact Chilly was so en­am­oured of the place that he is fish­ing it through the win­ter, and has rechris­tened it Green­mire, be­cause of its size, shape and green­ery. Hook Lake is an old es­tate lake, goes back a long way, and has a bit of a his­tory. When we talked to Bob Davis at the re­cent Carp So­ci­ety week­end in Au­gust he com­mented that he and Lenny Mid­dle­ton had fished the wa­ter back in the 70s at a time when you were only able to fish

As he was talk­ing so lit­tle sense any­way it didn’t re­ally res­onate with me, but after I’d watched Chilly and Laney in ac­tion over the week­end I be­gan to think he may have a point

from one (or two) of the banks. I was fa­mil­iar with the name of the lake from my Snow­berry Lake days in the 70s be­cause both wa­ters were run by John Curry’s Four­ways Fish­eries.

We raised around £1500 on be­half of Marsh Prat­ley’s Chil­dren With Cancer on­go­ing char­ity sup­port, and it was a great week­end in lovely sur­round­ings, and in great com­pany. At some point dur­ing the ex­changes on Satur­day night ‘LVS Rob’ com­mented that he didn’t re­ally look on me as a carp an­gler. As he was talk­ing so lit­tle sense any­way it didn’t re­ally res­onate with me, but after I’d watched Chilly and Laney in ac­tion over the week­end I be­gan to think he may have a point. I was us­ing ir­re­sistible hook­baits over gen­er­ous in­tro­duc­tions of hemp, but they re­sisted.

Thanks Stan, it was spe­cial, as was your host­ing, food and wine. Per­haps we’ll get to do it all again some time. I’ve made a note of the cor­rect gate code. The sup­port cast was sim­ply ter­rific. Good on yer guys.

Chrono­log­i­cally I’m all over the place now be­cause the Carp So­ci­ety Horse­shoe week­end was the week after Hutchy’s fu­neral and was a sim­i­lar – if lower key – gath­er­ing of fa­mil­iar faces from back along the way. The idea of a So­ci­ety Carp Fish­ing Mu­seum dates back a long way but over the last cou­ple of years it has been driven to fruition by Chair­man Derek Strit­ton, the board of direc­tors, and some very will­ing sup­port­ers, not least in the shape of Len Ar­bery and Chris Ball who have con­trib­uted the Red­mire dis­play and made some sig­nif­i­cant old tackle avail­able. The week­end was a sun-blessed one, as much of this gor­geous sum­mer has been, and the sup­port for this year’s event was an en­cour­ag­ing one. Vis­i­tors had the run of the Horse­shoe site, there were nu­mer­ous stands as a fo­cus of at­ten­tion, re­fresh­ments were avail­able from the HQ through­out the day, and well into the night, and the evening’s en­ter­tain­ment was sup­plied by Len and Chris, with a con­tri­bu­tion by Mike Wil­son. The vis­i­tors made up a ‘Who’s Who?’ of carp fish­ing’s past, and on re­flec­tion I think I missed out on meet­ing some of my he­roes of yes­ter­year.

A long day cul­mi­nated in a long night of rem­i­nisc­ing with Pete Springate, Robin Dix, first Chair­man Bob Davis, John Perkins’ son An­thony, and a hand­ful of oth­ers who came and went as the night pro­gressed. Julie and I look for­ward to our stays at the New Inn at Lech­lade and our vis­its to So­ci­ety HQ. We got there two days early so I could start my fi­nal check­ing of the Carp So­ci­ety book Still For the Love of Carp which is due for pub­li­ca­tion at the back end of the year, with a Sandown show launch in No­vem­ber. My old mate Fletch, who was my co-con­spir­a­tor in the launch of the So­ci­ety and one of the res­cue team re­place­ment direc­tors at the suc­cess­ful EGM oust­ing of the board, had put to­gether the evening’s en­ter­tain­ment, and it was a great suc­cess. I never tire of see­ing the pic­tures from the early days of carp fish­ing, and there were plenty of those on of­fer in the newly-opened mu­seum and the evening’s talks and slide shows. Len Ar­bery has had his health prob­lems over the last year or two so it was great to see him look­ing so well. Marsh Prat­ley’s health prob­lems have been more widely pub­li­cised than Len’s, and it was amaz­ing that Marsh was able to put in an ap­pear­ance for a few hours on the Satur­day. He had been strug­gling to breathe the last time I saw him, but the pres­sure on his wind-pipe ap­pears to have eased, and it was only the chemo set-back to his for­mer crown­ing locks that bore wit­ness to his on­go­ing bat­tle against cancer. On re­flec­tion I could have been more ac­tive with my cam­era, but, sad ad­mis­sion, there was so much go­ing on that I took far fewer shots than I should have done. On the other hand I was de­lighted to meet Pete Rogers, present with his

friend Tony Meers. Pete’s name has long echoed round the halls of book pub­lish­ing, as has Tony’s, and it was through his ef­forts work­ing with Mau­rice Ing­ham that the Carp Catch­ers’ Club let­ters fi­nally saw the light of day in book form. Pete was in­stru­men­tal in help­ing get Mau­rice’s lovely lit­tle Woldale book pub­lished, too.

The mu­seum will grow, and be­come a fo­cus of at­ten­tion, as will the pro­jected li­brary. If you think you can con­trib­ute to ei­ther ven­ture then get in touch with Miles or Sab­rina (01367 253959) at Carp So­ci­ety HQ and run your in­tended con­tri­bu­tion past them. Prior no­tice is im­por­tant in the case of books as we want one copy of each carp book ever pub­lished, and it is nec­es­sary to avoid mul­ti­ple du­pli­ca­tions of some ti­tles. I have a num­ber of col­lectable ti­tles du­pli­cated which I am happy to do­nate to the li­brary.

The So­ci­ety’s book is now in the fi­nal stages of pro­duc­tion, in the ca­pa­ble hands of Mike Starkey. With con­tri­bu­tions from such high pro­file writ­ers and an­glers as Shaun Har­ri­son, Ian Chill­cott, Iain Macmil­lan, Brian Skoyles, Oz Hol­ness, Steve Briggs, Ju­lian Cun­diff, Chris Ball, Chris Cur­rie, Bill Cot­tam, Rob Hughes, Mark Wals­ing­ham and Si­mon Crow, to name but a few, the book is go­ing to find its way onto many book­shelves in the months to come. The main theme of the chap­ters is ‘Heaven and Hell’, which more or less sums up carp fish­ing as most of us know it. There is some retro ma­te­rial from back is­sues of Carp Fisher thrown into the mix, so the book is a real kalei­do­scope of ma­te­rial re­flect­ing a range of ex­pe­ri­ence and ages in the con­trib­u­tors.

Hav­ing read the book three times at the check­ing and proof­ing stages I have to say that the chap­ter by Mi­randa Brown about the for­ma­tion of the Ladies’ carp group, and the en­su­ing ladies’ in­ter­na­tional matches, proved to be a real rev­e­la­tion. Many great ideas are born when you are sit­ting do­ing noth­ing, or ly­ing in bed try­ing to get to sleep, and such was the case with Mi­randa’s brain­wave to bring or­gan­ised ladies’ events to fruition, which she duly did some time back. Kev Clif­ford has a say­ing, “If you want some­thing do­ing ask a busy per­son” and Mi­randa is clearly a busy per­son who got some­thing done. She ar­ranged a ladies’ get to­gether, the ubiq­ui­tous Rob Hughes got in touch re film­ing, and tri­als and in­ter­na­tional matches fol­lowed. If you want to pur­sue this av­enue fur­ther, ladies, get the book. Many women/ladies start out by go­ing along with their hus­bands or part­ners with­out be­com­ing adept in their own right, but clearly some be­come very ac­com­plished carp an­glers. Our Bev Clif­ford is cap­tain of the ladies’ team, so pre­sum­ably you can get in touch with events through Carp­world, via Bev, or pos­si­bly even via the Carp So­ci­ety if

things de­velop as they should.

Pip and Jemima are ca­pa­ble carp an­glers, and at one time were en­thu­si­as­tic with it un­til fam­ily life got in the way. To take a Hutchy con­nec­tion even fur­ther I taught them to carp fish on Lit­tle Ma­dine while the Dream at Ma­dine videos were be­ing made on the main lake. Bear in mind that the first three years of the World Carp Clas­sic at Ma­dine in­volved cast­ing from the bank. Our girls were part of the win­ning team in 1999, and won the Ladies ti­tle in 2000 when they man­aged one of the few carp caught in the event while fish­ing (cast­ing) from the back of the small is­land near HQ. At the lat­est event re­ported by Mi­randa in the book three na­tions were par­tic­i­pat­ing – Eng­land, Wales and Hol­land – with more coun­tries clam­our­ing to get on board and be in­volved.

There are some great lady/women carp an­glers out there, and they bring the added di­men­sion of fe­male pheromones into the reck­on­ing. Far­fetched? I’m afraid not. The Dutch pair of Bianca Ven­ema and Lizette Be­un­ders won the World Carp Clas­sic in 2013, and were sec­ond in 2015, the year all-amer­i­can lady carper Larysa Swit­lyk teamed up with Dutch an­gler Hans Siss­ingh to win the ti­tle – these ref­er­ences are to the whole event, not a ladies’ ti­tle).you see what Jacko and I are up against when we de­fend our ti­tle in Septem­ber, at around the time that this is­sue of Carp­world is pub­lished?

Lady carpers are noth­ing new in ma­jor in­ter­na­tional matches, and now the home threat is grow­ing, thanks to the ef­forts of Mi­randa Brown, Bev Clif­ford and their friends. Carp fish­ing is what you make of it, and we all have dif­fer­ent ideas of what con­sti­tutes our own ver­sions of the pur­suit. Carp matches aren’t ev­ery­one’s cup of tea, but to me they are an ad­ven­ture. You go to par­tic­i­pate. If you catch any­thing, it’s a re­sult. If you win it’s a mir­a­cle. Win or lose they dis­rupt your life and beat you up, but the fish­ing is only part of the oc­ca­sion. In­ter­na­tion­ally they are a gath­er­ing of like-minded carpers on a global scale, with ses­sion

There are some great lady/ women carp an­glers out there, and they bring the added di­men­sion of fe­male pheromones into the reck­on­ing. Far-fetched? I’m afraid not

fish­ing thrown into the equa­tion. Once you are on the bank you are ses­sion fish­ing, no more, no less. Any carp caught are as well cared for as they are in ses­sions. In the matches we par­tic­i­pate in there is no ques­tion of bag­ging up, other than on the St. Lawrence, where it can get a tad hec­tic at times. You go to Ma­dine hop­ing to get a draw which gives you some prospect of catch­ing. If it’s a poor draw you go out, bivvy up, live on the bank for five days, pack up and come back. Jacko and I have had our share of that par­tic­u­larly un­re­ward­ing rou­tine. That draw-bag mo­ment is one to be dreaded. We gave the job to run­ner Benji last year, and he came up trumps. It’s ask­ing a lot for fate to be as kind this time around, but all carp fish­ing is based on hope, which is all you have left when all else has failed. Jacko and I have won five world ti­tles be­tween us, which is more than any carper’s life­time ra­tion, so to hope for suc­cess this time around would be un­re­al­is­tic. But to not live in hope would be un­re­al­is­tic, too, so some­where deep in­side there will be a glim­mer of hope. Jacko ma­jors in it.

I’ll end with Hutchy. The last words in his first book were “Don’t for­get to smell the flow­ers along the way.” The orig­i­nal quote was by the fa­mous 1920s Amer­i­can golfer Wal­ter Ha­gen, who lived life to the full, and liked a glass or two. There is a poignancy about the full quote, which ap­pears as the cap­tion, be­cause the en­try mu­sic at the cre­ma­to­rium ser­vice in July was Bobby Mc­fer­rin’s ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy’. Rest in peace, Big Fella: the whole world of carp fish­ing mourns your pass­ing.

We take the use of hemp for granted now, but Rod lifted the idea from the BARBEL FISH­ING on the Roy­alty

Tin­ker the Won­der­dog pro­tect­ing her mas­ter from the danc­ing sil­ver pa­per!

Rod went on to catch a COU­PLE OF 20LB-PLUS fish from the wa­ter. This WAS THE FIRST OF THEM

The bar­be­cue and so­cial gath­er­ing on the Satur­day evening was a lively af­fair

Stars Chilly and Laney both caught Hook Lake res­i­dents...

Rob (near­est cam­era) played in the So­ci­ety Su­per­group at the Cir­cus Tav­ern in No­vem­ber 2016

Old school one: Chair­man Derek Strit­ton, Len Ar­bery, Bally, Kris Ford and Mike Wil­son

The set­ting for the Carp So­ci­ety Horse­shoe week­end in the heat­wave con­di­tions of the sum­mer of 2018, look­ing across the stock pond to the HQ

Our Bev Clif­ford is cap­tain of the ladies’ team, pic­tured here with Mi­randa Brown

The Ladies’ team with man­ager Rob Hughes and co-man­ager Mi­randa Brown at one of the in­ter­na­tional matches

One of the dis­play cab­i­nets in the new­ly­opened Carp So­ci­ety Mu­seum. This will be the start of some­thing big

Old school two: Marsh Prat­ley on a rare out­ing, Bally, Fletch, Tony Meers and Pete Rogers

Pip and Jemima were part of the win­ning team in 1999, and won the Ladies ti­tle in 2000

The Dutch pair of Bianca Ven­ema and Lizette Be­un­ders won the World Carp Clas­sic in 2013, and were sec­ond in 2015!

In­ter­na­tion­ally they are a gath­er­ing of like-minded carpers on a global scale, with ses­sion fish­ing thrown into the equa­tion

‘You’re only here for a short visit. Don’t hurry. Don’t worry. And be sure to smell the flow­ers along the way.’ RIP Big fella

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from UK

© PressReader. All rights reserved.